Candidate (Jill Lewis Mysteries Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Susan Wales

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132 pages

English

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Investigative reporter Jill Lewis has bought her small, hometown newspaper in Delavan, Wisconsin. Now she's torn between two very different men: John, her FBI agent fiancé, and Tommy, the young, charming senator who saved her life. But at least she can count on some peace and quiet as she tries to untangle her heart and make up her mind, right?Wrong. When a scuba-diving accident in Lake Delavan leads her to a remarkable discovery the same day as a top senator's aide is brutally murdered in the same lake, Jill is back in action. But someone wants it all kept quiet. Can she uncover the truth in time? Or has her luck run out?

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Thriller

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juillet 2007
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441239488
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2007 by Susan Wales and Robin Shope
Published by Revell a division of Baker Publishing Group P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287 www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
eISBN 978-1-4412-3948-8
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
With love to my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Joseph Huey, who have nurtured my faith, storytelling, and imagination since my childhood. And with gratitude to my cousin Tom Morgan, diver extraordinaire, who provided consultation for Jill’s dive.
Susan Wales

To Gordon Yadon, friend and mentor to all who know him. Town’s historian and keeper of Wisconsin’s past. And the best storyteller in the Midwest. Also to my hometown of Delavan and all the people who live there.
Robin Shope
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Endorsement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33

Acknowledgments
About the Author
1

It’s like just before the sun goes to bed down on the bay, those million sparkles on the water. . . . Like that mountain lake, it was so clear . . . it looked like two skies, one on top of the other. I couldn’t tell where heaven started and the earth begun .
Winston Groome, in Forrest Gump
Jill had spent a lifetime of summer evenings on the porch of her family home at the lake, but none seemed as quiet as this one. As she lit the candles, memories of those evenings began to roll through her head like a film clip Scrabble games, thick slices of watermelon, and barbecues with friends.
Jill smiled as she recalled the lively suppertime debates with her dad. Her sister Kathy, prim and proper like their mother, would usually sit silently, but not Jill. She had always liked to voice her strong beliefs. Much to the chagrin of her mother and sister, Jill was still espousing her views. Only now, families around tables everywhere read them. But that was all about to change.
After Jill poured iced tea into the two glasses, she added a sprig of mint to each one, then settled into the porch glider to wait for her mother to bring their dinner. Back and forth, the swing’s creaking chain chimed in the summer chorus of frogs and crickets.
Why hadn’t she lingered at family suppers instead of wolfing down her food and dashing off to meet her friends at the local hangout, Eat’n Time? Today that diner was gone, her friends scattered across the country. And her father’s chair was empty.
“Bon appétit,” Pearl said as she appeared at the door, carrying their supper on a tray.
Pearl set the plates of roasted chicken and green salad atop the linen placemats. She stopped to watch the sunset, shielding her eyes with one hand as deep purple unfolded around the edges of the sky and a ginger sun slipped cloud by cloud toward the water, leaving behind a trail of pink ribbons scattered across the heavens.
“Going, going . . .” Jill said. Then, at the exact moment the fiery ball crashed into the azure lake, Jill exclaimed, “Gone! Wow!”
“Wow? Is that all the author can utter after a glorious sunset?” Pearl asked, raising an eyebrow. She pulled the linen back from the bread basket and offered Jill a roll.
“I’m a journalist, not a poet.”
“And you’re a publisher now,” Pearl reminded her.
“Of a small-town newspaper,” Jill added, carefully punctuating the word small . “A lot less impressive than investigative reporter at the Washington Gazette .”
“Oh, but it sounds prestigious. I can just see Miss Cornelia’s words in print on the society pages.” Pearl fanned her hand across the air. “‘The bride is the publisher of the award-winning newspaper, the Lakes News .’”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get too carried away, Mother.”
“By the time you’re married, you’ll have won at least a couple of awards.” Pearl patted Jill’s hand in reassurance.
Jill pursed her lips, then chuckled. “So the truth’s out. You don’t expect me to marry for another decade or two?”
“Au contraire,” Pearl retorted, her eyes twinkling. She speared a piece of grilled chicken as if it were a husband for her daughter and asked, “What girl wouldn’t love to have your left hand, a hand with not one but two marriage proposals?”
“And a girl whose mother happens to own the only bridal shop in a ten-mile radius to boot.” Jill raised her water glass high.
“Wedding shop aside, I know you’re here to get away from it all so you can decide which of the charming young men you’ll marry.”
“No.” Jill frowned. “I’m here to run the newspaper I bought, remember?”
“To whatever got you here, I’m grateful.” Pearl clasped her hands and looked heavenward with a smile.
“After my last investigation, it didn’t take much to bring me home.” Jill shuddered at the memory. She leaned forward to confide in her mother. “And just tonight, I’ve made another decision.”
Pearl leaped from her chair and hugged Jill. “Oh, darling, that’s marvelous news. You must drop by my bridal shop tomorrow so we can choose your wedding gown. I bought several Vera Wang designs in New York with you in mind.”
“Mother . . . shouldn’t I choose my groom first?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I almost forgot. Who’s the winner? Uh, I mean, who’s the lucky man? Is it Tommy or John? I’m dying to know.”
“I’ll bet you are.” Jill clucked her tongue. “But this decision has nothing to do with a bridegroom.”
Shoulders drooping, Pearl sat back down and took another bite of her salad. Between bites, she asked nonchalantly, “Okay, so what is this big decision?”
“I’ve decided I’m not going back to Washington. Tomorrow I’m calling Annabelle and Rubric to make it official.”
“What?” Pearl gasped, dropping her fork. It tumbled and clanged against the china plate. “But Annabelle’s given you a six-month leave of absence to find someone to run the paper. Why resign now? Especially since both your young men live in Washington. Unless you’re telling me you’ve decided not to marry either one of them?”
“Relax, Mother. I haven’t made any decisions about my love life.”
“Then are you sure it’s the best time to leave Washington for good?”
“I think so.” Jill sighed. “I almost died in my last investigation, and since then, I’ve just wanted to live each day to the fullest. Home is where I need to be, with you.” Jill felt tears coming to her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I want to watch the sunsets like we did tonight and to run the Lakes myself.” Jill wrapped her arms around herself and hesitated. “I thought you’d be thrilled, Mother.”
“If I believed it were true, I’d hop up on this table, shout amen, and do a tap dance to the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ But I know you too well, Jill Lewis.” Pearl wagged her finger at her daughter. “Once you recover from your post-traumatic stress disorder or whatever you call it, you’ll be back on the Hill involved in another life-threatening story while I’m finding your replacement at the Lakes .”
Realizing her mother’s words just might be true, Jill didn’t protest.
Both women sank into a reflective mood as they silently watched the flicker of taillights and the last boats sputtered toward home. Loud, angry voices broke their mood.
Pearl frowned. “This lake’s not what it used to be. Too many rowdy tourists.”
“Probably a bunch of drunks. Should I call the lake patrol?”
Before Pearl could reply, the angry voices ceased. “Sounds like they’ve settled down now,” she said, then excused herself. In a minute she returned with two slices of lemon pie and a pot of coffee.
As the women enjoyed the summer dessert, Pearl asked, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Scuba diving,” Jill announced, wiping meringue off her mouth with her napkin.
Pearl shook her head. “Good heavens! I think you’d be much safer in Washington. There’s no telling what’s rumbling around at the bottom of this lake.”
2

I’ve never lost a game in my life. Once in a while, time ran out on me .
Bobby Layne
Sunlight sliced across the lake’s surface. Thirty feet below, Jill and her diving buddy, Donna, trailed a school of sunfish. Without warning, the iridescent sunfish scattered like shooting stars in every direction. Jill looked around for the source of their panic. There it was, gliding beneath her a northern pike with yellow fins and rows of needle-sharp teeth. Typically, this species dined on the fish that lived in brushy pockets of coves and submerged caves, exactly the places where Jill, a novice diver, aspired to search for sunken relics.
Hoping to find a buried treasure to blog about tonight on the greenhorn diver’s site, Jill pointed to the pike, signaling Donna to follow. Donna flashed thumbs-up and joined Jill in the chase. Swiftly, the women swam far away from the other divers, nearly colliding with a turtle in search of a breakfast of sunfish. Sufficiently bullied, the old turtle reluctantly paddled away into a limestone formation. Curious, Jill followed him. Looking inside, she gasped at what she saw snagged on a ledge of limestone a treasure born of childhood dreams and untamed imagination.
The wooden dinghy was covered in barnacles and packed with mud and sand. It was impossible to tell the original color. Jill shined her flashlight on the side of the craft, reading a gold, cursive letter T hanging on by a single rusty screw. Jill searched, hoping to find more of the fallen letters near her feet.